


Lost and Found in Translation

by Persuade_me



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Language shenanigans, Secondary Character - Missandei
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-04
Updated: 2020-02-04
Packaged: 2021-02-28 05:54:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,724
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22558984
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Persuade_me/pseuds/Persuade_me
Summary: Gendry's awful with people. Always has been. Doesn't like them, probably never will. But the interpreter Tobho's hired is making him rethink all of that.
Relationships: Arya Stark/Gendry Waters
Comments: 70
Kudos: 297
Collections: Still Rowing: A Gendrya Centric Fanfic Collection





	Lost and Found in Translation

**Author's Note:**

> In the books, Arya shows an aptitude for learning other languages while she's in Braavos, so I really wanted to translate that to a modern AU. 
> 
> I have not made the effort to create words in Qohorik, because frankly, I probably wouldn't be very good at it. So, in the instances where one of those spoken words is in italics, just pretend they're speaking Qohorik.

The stone building loomed over him, blocking out the sun. It was his first time in Braavos, and he’d barely had a chance to see anything beyond the massive Titan straddling the harbor as the plane flew overhead and then again on the ferry ride from the airport. He hadn’t traveled much, and he wanted to see it all. Drowned Town and the Sealord’s Palace and the Arsenal and the Isle of the Gods and the various temples, but there simply wasn’t time. He was afraid that the only sight he’d get to see at all was the one in front of him, the Iron Bank of Braavos. 

He shouldn’t complain, not really. They’d been unbelievably fortunate, the first Westerosi company to snag a commission from the Braavosi government, outfitting the Sealord’s ceremonial guard with updated armor and weapons. Tobho had been ridiculously smug about it for months.

Tobho was meant to be there, to handle all of this, but he’d gotten held up with family business in Qohor, unsure if he’d make it at all, so it’d fallen to Gendry to deal with the representatives from the Iron Bank, with the government officials. He’d be the one to hammer out all the tedious details, to review the endless regulations, and he was dreading it.

Gendry hated the business side of blacksmithing. He hated the small talk and polite smiles and everything that came with it, and he hated the suit and necktie he’d put on before leaving his hotel that morning. Not that he wasn’t aware the situation called for it, but he’d much rather be in jeans or his soot stained forge clothes beating away on a piece of metal than sitting in a boardroom faking politeness to bankers and businessmen. It made him feel like an outsider, a hapless tourist completely out of his depth and struggling with a secret language everyone else seemed to speak without issue. 

Sighing heavily, he readjusted his shoulder bag and climbed the last few steps to pull open the door, steeling himself for a day full of inevitable anxiety and annoyances. 

The lobby of the Iron Bank was massive, all tan stone and brass fixtures, his footsteps echoing as he made his way across to the desk in the center of the room, where a young woman in a dark grey suit sat watching him approach.

“Welcome to the Iron Bank,” she greeted him smiling. “My name is Talea. How may I help you today?”

“Uh, Gendry Waters?” He set down his bag and pulled out his phone to bring up the email from Tobho. “I’m supposed to be meeting with...Tycho Nestoris?”

Talea turned to her computer and tapped away at her keyboard for a moment before nodding. “He’ll be down in just a moment, Mr. Waters,” she said. “In the meantime, I believe the interpreter you hired has arrived.” She gestured to a small waiting area over to the side where he could see another young woman sitting, head bent over her phone.

He let out a small sigh of relief. He’d forgotten that Tobho had hired an interpreter, even though he hadn’t been sure if it was necessary. But Tobho had insisted, asserting that it was folly to blindly trust the Iron Bank’s interpreters without one of their own to confirm exactly what was going on. Knowing that he wouldn’t be facing the day completely alone loosened the knot, just a little bit, that had formed in his gut.

Thanking Talea, he picked up his bag and crossed over to the plush leather chairs to where the interpreter sat. At the sound of his footsteps she looked up from her phone, and he almost tripped at the sight of her. 

Gendry didn’t believe in love at first sight. He barely believed in attraction at first sight. The woman standing to greet him however, instantly had him reconsidering everything he ever believed.

She was small, quite a bit shorter than himself, and a quick downward glance showed him that without her heels, she’d likely barely reach his shoulder. Her black pantsuit showed off her slim figure to perfection, highlighting her curves tastefully, but even so, he could barely keep his eyes off her face, which was gorgeous. Her dark hair was pulled back in a bun, a few loose tendrils framing expressive grey eyes that seemed to swallow him whole.

“Tobho Mott?” she asked expectantly, and he nodded stupidly. “Arya Stark. We spoke on the phone? It’s nice to meet you.” She stuck out her hand, and he reached out to shake it automatically before he realized what she’d said. 

“No.”

Her smile faltered, and she narrowed her eyes in confusion. “No?” 

“No, sorry,” he clarified. “Tobho couldn’t make it. I’m Gendry. Gendry Waters. His, um, partner.” He belatedly realized he was still grasping her hand and dropped it, hoping she hadn’t noticed how clammy his had suddenly become. 

“Business!” he exclaimed, when it registered what he’d said. “Business partner. I’m his business partner.”

He thought her lips might have quirked up in a smirk, but it was so fast he wasn’t sure if he was imagining it or not. “Nice to meet you, Gendry.” She smiled at him and gestured to the seat beside her. “Have you ever used a interpreter before?” she asked, sitting and crossing her legs as she gazed up at him.

He stared at her for half a moment, then shook his head slightly trying to clear it. “No,” he replied, sitting down and turning to face her. “Tobho thought we might need one, though.”

“The Iron Bank generally provides interpreters for these kinds of arrangements, but it’s never a bad idea to bring one of your own,” she told him. “That way, you can be sure you’re getting all the information. Although, the interpreters they use are quite good, and they do come from an outside service to keep a level of accountability there.”

“Oh.”

“Now some of the people you’ll meet today will speak the common tongue in varying levels of competency. Tycho Nestoris is fluent, but since the others attending are not, the meeting will be conducted in Braavosi,” she said. “But I have fifteen years experience in the language, so I promise that I am more than capable to let you know what’s going on.”

“Fifteen years?” he asked, impressed. “You must have learned it very young then. You can’t be-” He cut himself off, reddening slightly. “I’m sorry. One should never assume a lady’s age.”

Arya laughed. “I’m no lady,” she said. “But you’re right. I did learn it very young. My former dancing instructor was from Braavos, and he started teaching me when I was nine.” She smiled. “Turned out, I had a natural aptitude for languages, and I picked it up rather quickly.”

Gendry opened his mouth to respond, but a voice interrupted him. “Mr. Waters?” 

Turning, he saw a tall, thin man in a dark purple suit striding forward to meet him. “Tycho Nestoris. If you’d come with me?”

He climbed the wide stone staircase beside Tycho, answering the usual questions about his flight and accommodations, internally gritting his teeth at the man who was clearly uninterested in the answers to his questions. Why even pretend? Couldn’t they just walk silently to their meeting?

Glancing behind him, he saw Arya’s eyes meet his, and she smiled. Suddenly, Tycho’s questioning wasn’t quite as annoying as it had been.

The room was already half full of people when he entered. Men and women in suits milled about, cups of coffee and pastries in hand. They turned as he, Tycho, and Arya entered the room, several of them stepping forward, intent on introductions. 

There was a sudden gasp from behind him, and he whipped around to see Arya beaming, her entire face lit up in joy. “Missandei?” 

A woman with light brown skin and curly black hair broke away from the group, a look of disbelief on her face. “Arya?”

The two women met in a fierce hug, the rest of the room’s occupants falling silent. After a moment, Tycho cleared his throat pointedly, and they broke apart, neither one looking at all sorry for the disruption. 

“Apologies,” the woman called Missandei said, bowing her head to the banker. “Arya is an old friend of mine who I have not seen in a very long time.”

Arya grinned at her. “It’s been, what ten years? Eleven?”

Missandei nodded. “At least,” she said smiling. 

“What are you doing here in Braavos?” Arya asked. 

“I’m interpreting for the Iron Bank. Just started last week. Why are you here?”

Arya turned slightly to Gendry and nodded. “I’m here on behalf of Mr. Waters and his business partner.” She grinned again, shaking her head. “What are the odds that we’d both be interpreting?”

Tycho cleared his throat again, and Missandei stepped back, drawing herself up as the banker began making introductions 

Arya moved to stand beside Gendry, interpreting quietly as various people stepped forward to speak with him. He kept glancing at her as she spoke, transfixed by how flawlessly she transitioned between Braavosi and the common tongue. 

Soon enough, he was settled beside her at the large table, piles of paperwork in front of him and any thought he might have had of getting to know her better was pushed aside as they worked their way through the legalese and minutiae of the contracts. But even so, every time she leaned in to explain something or clarify a term, he felt a small frisson of excitement run through him at her proximity. 

Arya, however, seemed entirely unaffected by their closeness, retaining an air of professionalism that he couldn’t help but feel slightly disappointed by. But then, he reminded himself, she was being paid to be there, and it wasn’t fair for him to ogle her or treat her as anything other than the highly competent professional that she clearly was. 

Besides, even with the small smiles she was giving him, Gendry had never been able to read a woman’s intentions, completely unable to interpret that particular language. There were far too many instances of Hot Pie or Lommy knocking him upside the head after various interactions with women, declaring him utterly hopeless at picking up on even blatant flirting. 

So, he sat next to her, determined to ignore the way her eyes sparkled when she smiled and the faint scent of cinnamon that drifted over whenever she leaned her head next to his. He was not going to be one of those creeps who hit on someone they were paying to do a job, even if he was tempted.

When lunch time rolled around, Tycho stood and invited everyone to accompany him to the restaurant across the street. Gendry followed the others, feeling slightly awkward on his own as Arya had immediately moved to Missandei’s side, the two women chatting away as the group slowly made their way down the stairs and out of the bank.

“Mr. Waters?”

Gendry turned to see one of the younger men looking at him nervously. 

“Yes?”

“I am Luco. I hear the common tongue...” Luco frowned as he trailed off, his eyebrows knitting together. Then he raised his hand and held his thumb and pointer finger together. “Small. I hear small.” 

Gendry stared at him for a moment, confused, then realization hit him. “Oh, you’re learning it? And you know a little bit?”

“Yes,” Luco said, nodding. “We...talk?” He gestured between them, then mimed eating. “At food?”

“During lunch, you mean?”

Luco nodded, beaming at him, and Gendry glanced at Arya who was deep in conversation with Missandei. He felt a pang of dejection but brushed it away and turned to the younger man, internally sighing at the prospect. “Of course,” he said reluctantly. 

Luco’s face lit up, and he immediately felt a twinge of guilt at his annoyance. Tobho had warned him not to be rude. He could at least try to listen.

As they entered the opulently decorated restaurant, Arya moved next to him, her eyes apologetic as she chewed her lip. 

“I’m so sorry, Mr. Waters. I didn’t mean to just abandon you like that. It’s just, we haven’t seen each other since we were about thirteen, and-”

“It’s fine,” he said, smiling as he held up a hand. “Really. I’m not offended, and it’s Gendry, not Mr. Waters.” 

She smiled, but still looked doubtful.

“Please Miss Stark, I would feel terrible if you missed out on catching up with a friend to entertain me. Besides,” he said, glancing over his shoulder at Luco, “I’ve got someone who wants to practice their common tongue skills on me.”

Arya’s face twitched, and he felt himself flushing slightly, but she did not comment on his unintentional innuendo. Instead, she merely smiled and nodded in assent. “All right, but it’s Arya, not Miss Stark.”

They reached a small private dining room and spread out around the large table, Arya slipping into the seat on one side of him, Luco in the other with Missandei next to Arya. The rest settled into their chairs and soon enough, the room was filled with noisy chatter. 

He turned to Arya. “So how do you two know each other?” he asked gesturing to Missandei who was currently tapping away on her phone. 

She smiled, her eyes lighting up as she turned to glance at the other woman. “We met at one of those intensive language camps back when we were thirteen. You know, ‘Become fluent in High Valyrian in a month and a half.’ The two of us were partnered together for the entire thing.”

Missandei set her phone down and leaned forward. “Arya’d been teaching herself High Valyrian with books for more than a year before then, and one of my best friends is fluent, so we bonded over the fact that we knew more than the rest of them, which come to think of it, was probably a little snooty of us.”

Arya laughed. “How many are you up to now? I remember you had- Hang on.” She started ticking off on her fingers. “Let’s see, the common tongue, Naathi, Lyseni, Dothraki, High Valyrian, and… Old Giscari?”

Gendry blinked. “At thirteen?!” he asked incredulously.

Missandei nodded. 

“Wow.”

She shrugged and turned her gaze back to Arya. “Nineteen.”

“What!” Arya exclaimed. “That’s insane. I’m at nine. There’s the common tongue, obviously. Braavosi, High Valyrian, Pentoshi, Lyseni, Volanti, Lhazareen, Old Giscari, and Qohorik, although I’m struggling a bit with that one. I’ve only been at it a few months, and barely anyone outside of Qohor speaks it, so I’ve no one to practice with.”

Gendry started. Tobho was from Qohor, and he had a tendency to slip into his mother tongue when he was frustrated, so Gendry had picked up a bit of the language over the years. Mostly swear words, but he could understand well enough when Tobho yelled to stoke the fire or hammer harder or quench the flames. He opened his mouth to tell her this, but Missandei had clapped her hands excitedly. 

“Oh, no one speaks Qohorik here! I haven’t been able to use it in so long.” And she immediately fell into the language, Arya looking delighted at the opportunity. 

Slightly disappointed, Gendry turned to Luco and began a rather disjointed conversation. Though difficult, they managed to discover they were both big fans of the Storm’s End Stags and spent a good ten minutes trying to discuss their last match against Dorne, complete with hand gestures and exaggerated facial expressions. Football, it seemed, needed no translation. 

Once the food arrived, their conversation slowed, and Gendry focused on the plate of oysters, clams, and cockles in front of him. He wasn’t used to seafood like this, and he wasn’t sure exactly what to do with it. He tried to copy what the others were doing, but no matter what he did, he couldn’t seem to get it. He huffed in frustration and heard a small chuckle from beside him. 

Glancing up, he saw Arya gazing at him in amusement. “Here, let me show you,” she said, reaching out to take his fork. He watched as she deftly worked her way through his plate, leaving him with a pile of meat and a mound of empty shells. 

“Thank you,” he said softly, and for a moment, he thought he saw her cheeks turn pink. 

“You’re welcome,” she said turning back to her own plate.

Luco nudged him, and Gendry turned to look at him. “Good, no?” He said, gesturing to the food, and Gendry nodded. 

“Yes. It’s good.” 

Behind him, he heard Missandei begin speaking again, the familiar cadence of Qohorik bringing a smile to his face as he thought of Tobho storming about the forge, ordering him around.

“ _Blacksmith ...hot._ ”

What?

Then Arya’s voice. “ _...smoking…”_

_What?_

He wasn’t fluent in Qohorik. He was barely able to count to ten, but he knew those words. Those were words used almost everyday in the forge. His eyebrows creased in confusion. Why would they be talking about-

Oh.

He felt himself flush slightly at the realization that they were likely talking about him, and it took everything in him not to turn around and stare at them, especially once the giggles began. 

Arya was speaking through her laughter. “ _...hammer…”_

Was that _hammer you_ or _hammer me_? He never could remember the pronouns. 

Missandei’s response was no help. “ _...stoke...fire…”_

 _My fire_ or _your fire?_

Arya choked out, “ _...polish...sword…”_

 _“...pounding iron...”_ Missandei replied.

They dissolved into laughter, and Gendry couldn’t help himself. He turned around and stared, but he wasn’t the only one. Most of the table were now openly watching the two interpreters who both flushed at the scrutiny. 

Wiping at her eyes, Arya let out a long breath and looked around the table. “I apologize, everyone.”

Tycho drew himself up and sniffed disapprovingly. “I’m sure we’d all like to know what was so humorous.”

Gendry saw Arya’s eyes dart to him for half a second, then she and Missandei looked at each other. 

“I’m afraid it doesn’t translate, Mr. Nestoris,” Missandei said. “The joke only makes sense in Qohorik.” 

The banker hmmphed, and there was a moment of uncomfortable silence before Missandei turned to speak to the man on her other side, everyone else following suit and falling back into their conversations. 

Arya turned to him, cheeks slightly pink. 

“Does it really not translate?” he asked, tilting his head.

Her cheeks turned even pinker, and she shook her head. “It’s, uh, just one of those language things,” she said, but did not elaborate further. 

Gendry glanced between her and Missandei uncertainly. He had been sure they were making sex jokes. Blacksmithing terms were highly useful for euphemisms and innuendo, but it didn’t necessarily follow that they’d been talking about him. They could’ve been talking about Luco for all he knew or no one at all.

Brushing away the question lingering in his mind, he smiled at her. “So what made you want to be an interpreter”

They chatted quietly for the rest of the meal, sharing bits about themselves. He learned that she was from the North, had a huge family that she loved, grew up with actual direwolves running around, that she had gone to school in Braavos, and that this was her last assignment before returning to Westeros to start a job in King’s Landing. 

“I’m a little nervous about it,” she confessed. “I spent some time there as a child, and I didn’t enjoy it at all, but the opportunity was just too good to pass up, you know?” She grimaced slightly. “So, next month, I’m moving into an apartment I’ve never seen in a neighborhood I’ve never heard of in a city where I don’t know anyone, so as you can imagine, I’m feeling just a tiny bit stressed about it.”

“You know me,” he said, sounding a little wistful, and her eyes widened. 

“Oh,” she said blinking at him. “I guess I do.” 

They stared at each other for a moment, then he cleared his throat. 

“So, um, what neighborhood is it?”

“Rhaenys’ Hill,” she said, and he laughed. 

“You’ll be my neighbor. I’m in Flea Bottom. Wait, sorry,” he caught himself and rolled his eyes. “I’m in _Lower Iron Gate_.”

She looked at him quizzically. 

“They’re rebranding,” he explained. “Trying to bring in the young professionals who definitely don’t want to tell people they live in Flea Bottom.”

“Oh,” she said. “So you’re close to Rhaenys’ Hill then?”

He nodded. “My building is in that weird area between the two neighborhoods where no one can quite agree which one it’s actually in.” He paused uncertainly. “If you’d like, I could, I don’t know, show you around sometime? I mean, I’ve lived there my entire life, so I can definitely tell you the best places to get takeaway at least.”

Arya bit her lip and glanced down for a moment before looking back up and smiling at him almost shyly, and he felt his heart skip a beat. “Thank you,” she said. “That makes me feel a lot better about my move.” She laughed suddenly. “Just point me at the best pizza in town, and I’m good.” 

“Oh, that’s easy,” he said immediately. “Hot Pie’s. His pizzas are like, a religious experience. Just tell him I sent you.” 

“Tell who?”

“Hot Pie.” 

She scrunched up her nose in confusion. “Hot Pie,” she repeated. “Is that a restaurant or a person?”

Gendry laughed. “He’s both. I’ve known Hot Pie since I was a kid.”

She looked baffled. “Is that...his name?”

“You know, I couldn’t tell you one way or the other,” he said chuckling. “He insists that’s what his birth certificate says, but I find that very hard to believe, so who the hell knows.”

“Huh,” she said, pulling out her phone and holding it out. “Put in your contact info.”

He stared at her, slightly dumbstruck. She wanted his number?

She stared back, and the expectant expression on her face slowly morphed into uncertainty.

“I promise I won’t bug you,” she said, her voice just a little quieter than it had been. “You just said…” She trailed off, and he suddenly realized that his non reaction was making her uneasy.

“Shit, sorry,” he said grabbing the phone out of her hand and adding his cell, email, and address. “Of course. Call me, text me, email me. If you’ve got questions about King’s Landing, I’m happy to help. Or if you need someone to move a couch or, uh, feed your fish.”

“No fish,” she said with a soft laugh, “but I might take you up on answering those questions.” She paused, chewing on her lip. “If you’re sure it won’t be a nuisance.”

Gendry shook his head. “No, no nuisance. I promise.” He rubbed the back of his neck self consciously. “I’m happy to help,” he said. “Any time.”

There was a flash of uncertainty in her eyes, but she nodded slowly. “Thank you,” she said.

He opened his mouth to respond, but Tycho stood suddenly, announcing that lunch was over and they all needed to return immediately to continue the meeting. 

He fell into step behind Arya and Missandei as they crossed back over to the Iron Bank, the two of them speaking quietly, heads close together as they walked. At one point, Missandei glanced back at him, then muttered something in Qohorik to Arya, the only part of which he caught was _fucking hot_. To which Arya blushed slightly, then nodded, a small smirk on her face. 

Perhaps they had been talking about him then. The thought of Arya considering him attractive flooded him with warmth, but then he realized, she’d only nodded in agreement. And earlier, he was fairly certain it had been Missandei who had said something first. Maybe she was just agreeing with her friend. Maybe he wasn’t her type.

Gendry was not good with people. He never had been, always feeling slightly out of place in most situations. Even with Hot Pie and Lommy, he often found himself lost or frustrated, unable to express himself or just completely misunderstood. But talking with Arya, he’d felt none of that, and despite his absolute uncertainty surrounding whatever it was she and Missandei had been talking about, when it had been just the two of them talking over lunch, he’d never felt more heard in his life.

Sighing, he followed them up the stairs, making a concerted effort not to stare at her ass as he climbed. If his eyes had flicked to it for a second or two, he told himself, it was simply a coincidence. He was definitely not ogling the interpreter’s ass. 

The second half of the day had been just as tedious as the first, with the endless dissection of line after line of government regulations taking up the better part of four hours. By the time they’d finished, Gendry’s head was pounding, his body stiff, and his stomach growling. He wanted to get back to his room and collapse on his bed before a quick dinner and maybe checking out the hotel’s gym. 

He gathered up the stacks of papers and was trying to organize them in his bag when he heard a throat clear beside him. He looked up to see Missandei smiling down at him, Arya standing just behind her shoulder eyeing him warily. 

“Yes?” 

“We were wondering,” Missandei said pleasantly, “if you’d be interested in joining us this evening for dinner.”

He blinked and glanced at Arya whose face was strangely still. “Um,” he said uncertainly, “I wouldn’t want to intrude.”

“Oh, it’s not a bother if that’s what you’re wondering,” Missandei said waving away his concern. “Arya’s going to show me around the city a bit, and since you’re visiting, I thought you might like to see some of the sights too.” She smiled widely, her eyes glinting with excitement. Behind her, Arya was watching him, her expression completely unreadable, and Gendry cursed his inability to interpret a woman’s intentions. 

“Please come,” Missandei said, and she glanced back at Arya who nodded. 

“It’s really not a problem,” she said. “And you said at lunch you wanted to see the city. We’re heading over to Ragman’s Harbor, and you’re more than welcome to come along.”

He glanced between the two women and then nodded slowly. “All right,” he said, “but I’d like to change first if that’s all right.” 

Missandei beamed at him, and Arya’s shoulders dropped as if she’d just let out a breath she’d been holding, then she smiled warmly at him, her eyes flicking to Missandei for half a second. 

“Where are you staying?” she asked. 

“The Inn of the Green Eel,” he said picking up his bag and following them out of the room, a nervous anticipation spreading through him at the prospect of spending the evening with Arya, even with Missandei’s presence.

They made arrangements to meet at a tavern about half a mile from his hotel in an hour, Missandei’s smirk as they parted filling him with an odd sort of dread. Was she flirting with him? As he hurried back to his hotel, Gendry’s mind whirled with the possibility. 

He was nearly certain that one of them found him attractive. That one of them was possibly interested in him. But which one? Was it the one that he hoped? Or was he in for an awkward evening of trying to get to know Arya only to have her steer him towards her friend?

As he quickly showered, he tried to consider the two interpreters’ behavior objectively, but he just couldn’t resolve the question in his mind. He had no idea. Sighing, he slipped into a pair of jeans and a dark grey henley before pulling up the address to Moroggo’s on his phone and setting off down the walkway that bordered one of the many canals that ran through the city.

He’d been half worried that Moroggo’s was going to be some trendy monstrosity like Lommy tried dragging him to once a month, but he was pleasantly surprised when he opened the heavy wood door to find a dimly lit room, full of solid furniture that looked as if it’d been there for a hundred years. There was the faint chatter of a busy restaurant, but no one was yelling or “woo-ing” with their drink held up over their head. It was exactly the type of pub he loved.

He stepped inside and stopped, his eyes searching the room for Arya, but it was Missandei that he found first, waving him over from a round table in the corner. She was alone, he saw as he wove his way across the room, and he was struck with an awful fear that Arya wasn’t coming. That this was somehow a setup, but as he drew nearer, he saw two drinks on the table and a bag dangling from an empty chair, and he let out a sigh of relief. 

“Hi,” she said, smiling up at him brightly as he slipped into a chair. “So you found the place all right?” 

He nodded and picked up a menu, slightly uncomfortable with the way she was watching him. 

“I’m really glad you were able to come tonight,” she said with an odd gleam in her eyes. “I’m-” She cut herself off abruptly, her eyes snapping to somewhere over his shoulder. 

He turned and saw Arya making her way over, her hand raised in greeting. 

“Hey,” he said, standing as she approached. 

“You made it,” she said smiling. 

“Yeah. I made it.” He stood there, staring at her. She’d changed out of her black pantsuit into a pair of skinny jeans and a simple black top. Her hair was down now, brushing past her shoulders, and he had the sudden desire to bury his hands in it. Or lean in and smell it. He stuffed his hands in his pockets and took a step back, not quite trusting himself to not give in to the ridiculous thoughts that were racing through his head.

A flash of confusion crossed her face, and she blinked at him. 

Shit. He was being weird and awkward. 

Shaking his head, he sat abruptly and picked up his menu again, watching Arya out of the corner of his eye as she sat down next to him and turned to Missandei. 

“I can’t believe you’ve moved here just as I’m getting ready to leave,” she said, a wistful tone in her voice. 

He listened quietly as the two women talked about Braavos, Arya offering tips and answering Missandei’s questions about shops and restaurants. 

“Oh, can you tell me a good gym?” Missandei asked. “I haven’t had a chance to look for one yet.”

Arya’s face split into a wide smile. “The one I go to is the best in the city,” she said. “They offer a ton of classes, and they’re open 24/7, so you can get a workout in any time of the day.”

Missandei tilted her head, “Do you still water dance?”

Arya nodded, grinning broadly. “I do. I can’t believe you remember that.”

Missandei laughed. “How can I forget you twirling around with that sword of yours?”

Gendry’s head snapped up. “Sword?” he asked, confused. “While dancing?”

Arya turned to smile at him and nodded. “Water dancing,” she clarified. “I told you my dancing instructor came from Braavos.”

His eyes narrowed in confusion, and she laughed. 

“Water dancing is a Braavosi style of sword fighting,” she explained, pulling out her phone. She tapped at the screen a few times then held it out to him, a video pulled up. 

Curious, he took it and pressed play. It was her, standing in front of a man twice her size, both holding swords, and for half a moment, concern flooded through him, but then she moved and it was like nothing he’d ever seen. She flowed, her body gliding as her sword slipped through the air. He’d seen sword fighting before, reenactments and historical villages were a big part of their business, and he’d always thought it just hacking and slashing, all brute force and very little else. 

But this. This was beautiful. He watched her dancing around her opponent, absolutely transfixed with the sheer power and grace of her movements. She spun, her body twisting away from the reach of the man’s sword, deftly evading him, and within minutes, the tip of her sword was pressed against his neck, his weapon on the ground beside him. They stood motionless for a moment, then both grinned and stepped back and the video ended. 

Gendry stared at the frozen image of Arya, the triumphant smile on her flushed face, and he blinked before turning his gaze to the real flesh and blood Arya beside him. 

“Wow,” he said. “That’s- That’s incredible,” he stammered. “You’re incredible. I’ve never seen- I mean… Wow.” 

Arya’s cheeks flushed, and she looked down and bit her lip before reaching out and taking her phone. She swiped a few times and held it out to him again. “This is my sword,” she said. “Needle.”

He stared at her another moment before looking down and taking the phone again. His eyes narrowed, and he zoomed in a bit to examine parts of it more closely. “This is good work,” he said after a moment. “I’m not familiar with this type of sword myself, but I can tell it’s well made.” 

“It’s been with me through a lot,” she said softly. “It’s served me well over the years.” 

“Well, you definitely know how to use it,” he said, smiling at her.

They were both quiet for a moment, just staring at each other when the sound of a throat clearing made them jump. Missandei was watching them, her eyes jumping back and forth between them, an unreadable expression on her face. He felt, rather than saw, Arya draw back from him, and he was flooded with uncertainty again, unsure what either woman was feeling. 

He enjoyed the evening thoroughly, despite his confusion. He found himself laughing more than he had in months, swapping stories and getting to know both of them. He was surprised to realize that he actually liked Missandei. She was friendly and kind and funny, and he didn’t think he’d mind calling her a friend. But she was nothing like Arya. With every story she told, every bit of herself she shared, every smile she gave him, he felt himself slipping a little further each time. 

And it was there. Deep in his gut. A sliver of hope that curled up a little higher every time her eyes met his. But then she’d look away and pull her friend back into the conversation, and it would collapse, doubt overtaking everything else. Was he being ridiculous? He didn’t know. For what might have been the first time in his life, he wished Lommy and Hot Pie were there to give him advice about a girl. He almost laughed at the thought.

They’d been there a few hours by now. Food had come and gone, and still they lingered. Neither of them seemed inclined to end the evening, and he wasn’t either. So they sat, running through favorite movies, books, and songs, asking every question he could think of to learn more about her. 

He and Arya had just both vehemently agreed how disappointed they’d been with the recent ending of a tv series. 

“Thank the gods you didn’t like it either,” she said laughing. “I don’t think I could have ever seen you again if you had.”

Gendry felt his face flush at the implication that she wanted to see him again, that sliver of hope growing again, higher than it had before. Meeting her gaze, he smiled and tried to think of a response. Before he could speak, though, a loud voice broke through the chatter.

“Gendry!”

He whipped his head around to see Tobho storming over to the table, a thoroughly annoyed look on his face. 

“Gendry, _fucking hell_ .” The Qohorik curse words slipping out just as they always did when Tobho was agitated. “Why didn’t you answer your _damn_ phone? I’ve been calling you for the last hour and a half,” he said, dragging over an empty chair from a nearby table without even acknowledging the people at it. “I had to use that stupid _fucking_ find my friends app to track you down.” He sighed heavily and shook his head. “ _I need a drink_ ,” he said, the Qohorik phrase one of his favorite things to shout at the end of the day.

“Then get one, and stop bitching about it,” Gendry snapped back. “The bar’s over there.” 

But Tobho shook his head and stood. “No, I’m heading to the hotel. I just wanted to find you and let you know I was here, so I can handle the meetings tomorrow. I’ll see you later, _all right_?”

Gendry nodded. “Yeah, _all right_ ,” he said, echoing the Qohorik back at his partner, who had already turned to go without waiting for a reply.. 

Beside him, he heard a horrified gasp, and he turned to see Arya and Missandei both staring at him, wide-eyed. 

“You- You speak Qohorik?” Missandei stammered, her face frozen in an odd combination of amusement and mortification. 

“Uh.” He reached up to rub his neck self-consciously. “Not really?” he said. “Tobho’s from Qohor, and he swears in it a lot, so I can do that.” He gave a nervous laugh, unsure if he should continue, if he should reveal what else he knew. But then he realized. Missandei didn’t really look embarrassed at all. Her eyes kept darting towards Arya, and she looked as if she was desperately trying to keep from laughing. Arya’s face, however, was steadily turning a bright red, and she was staring at a spot just over his shoulder, as if she couldn’t bear to meet his gaze.

And suddenly, he knew. That sliver of hope erupted, and he thought _fuck it._ “That, and uh, smithing terms,” he said, feeling his own face flush. “So I can follow basic directions in the forge when he gets too agitated to speak the common tongue anymore.”

Missandei’s mouth was twitching. “So, you can understand words like ‘fire’ and ‘hammer’ and ‘pound’ then?”

He nodded, and she started laughing, her hand coming up to cover her mouth as she tried to hold in the giggles. “Oh, gods,” she choked out. “This is priceless.” She turned to gather up her things. “On that note,” she said, her eyes sparkling. “I think I’ll be leaving now.” She turned to Arya. “Grey’s coming into town this weekend, and I’d really like you to meet him. We can talk about it tomorrow, okay?”

Gendry shifted his gaze to Arya who just nodded wordlessly, her face still a brilliant pink. 

“See you in the morning, Gendry.” Missandei left, giggling madly, leaving Gendry and Arya sitting in an awkward silence. 

“Who’s Grey?” he asked after a long moment. 

Arya’s eyes were fixed on the table, and she started slightly at his question. “Her boyfriend,” she said quietly, and any lingering doubts he had fled, but he didn’t know what to say.

“Oh.”

After another long moment, Arya moved to grab her bag. “I think I’m gonna go too,” she said in a quiet voice. She stood and started to move away, but he reached out to grab her wrist and she froze, her eyes snapping to meet his. 

“Don’t go,” he said softly. “I’d really like it if you stayed.” 

She blinked at him, then a small smile spread across her face. “Yeah?” she asked, her eyes shining.

He gazed up at her and smiled. “Yeah, I would,” he said. “Unless you want to get out of here.” 

Her eyes widened, and he immediately realized the implications of what he’d said. “Oh, shit. I didn’t mean- Not that- I just-” He clamped his mouth shut, and Arya giggled. 

It was fucking adorable. 

“What I meant,” he said slowly, “was that we could go somewhere else, if you’d like. Or not. We can stay here. Or you could show me some sights. Or…” He trailed off, unsure again.

“How about a walk?” she asked, turning her wrist so that her hand grasped his, and she tugged him to his feet. She was standing so close. Barely a foot away, her hand still holding his and her face angled up to meet his gaze. She was so close that he could feel the warmth of her body, and for a moment, he forgot to breathe. 

“So how about it?” she asked, her eyebrows raised questioningly. 

Gods, she was close. 

“How about what?” 

“A walk?” Arya’s face grew a little uncertain, and Gendry immediately nodded. 

“A walk. Yes, a walk,” he said. “A walk sounds great.”

She led him out of Moroggo’s and down to the waterfront barely a block away, her hand still clasped around his. Gendry felt somewhat dazed by the feel of her skin against his, at how perfectly it fit, and he suddenly worried that his palms were far too clammy. That she’d notice, but he wasn’t about to let go. He wasn’t sure he ever wanted to let go.

“So this is Ragman’s Harbor,” she said, looking out at the dark water. “Not that much to see at night, but it’s a pleasant enough walk.” She moved, pulling him with her as she pointed out various landmarks. “That’s the Cattery,” she nodded at what appeared to be a nightclub. “Used to be a brothel. That’s Pynto’s,” she said, indicating a building that had been designed to resemble an old sailing ship. “It’s a pirate themed restaurant, and it’s unbearably cheesy.”

She chattered on, reciting the history of various buildings as she led him down the walkways and over bridges, barely looking at him as she did. He watched her, confused by her apparent disinterest, and it suddenly struck him that she was nervous. 

“Up ahead is Drowned Town,” she said. “It’s one of the oldest parts of the city, and-” 

Her words were cut off as Gendry halted in his tracks, tugging on her hand, urging her to stop. She stumbled backwards, and he reached out automatically to catch her, his free hand moving to her waist. 

“Sorry,” he muttered as her back landed against his chest. 

She leaned against him for a moment, then pulled herself up and turned around to face him. “Why’d you stop?” she asked, her face screwed up in confusion.

“Look,” he said, shifting his hand to lace their fingers together, immediately gratified by the way her breath hitched when he did. “As fascinating as the complete history of Braavos is, I’d much rather learn the history of Arya Stark.” He paused. “If that’s okay with you, that is.”

She’d been gazing up at him, but at his words, she glanced down and bit her lip, her face uncertain. Then she looked back up and nodded, smiling shyly. “All right, then,” she agreed. “But you have to tell me the history of Gendry Waters, deal?”

He stared down at her for a moment, incredulous that someone like her would want to know anything about someone like him, then squeezed her hand and nodded. “Deal.”

They walked for hours, past Drowned Town, up to Chequy Port where they could see the Arsenal in the distance, over to the Dome where they got caught up in a crowd of theatre goers just leaving the latest performance, then down to the Isle of the Gods where Arya pointed out the various temples, promising to bring him back the next night before they closed to the public. 

Gendry hadn’t talked so much to one person, revealed so much of himself to anyone since his mother died. It was odd, he realized as he was telling her about the anger issues he’d had that had gotten him into blacksmithing as a teen, to be sharing something so personal with someone he’d known for less than a day. But it felt right, natural, as she listened attentively, nodding along, her face completely understanding. 

And when she talked about the difficulties of her father’s death, of her feelings of inadequacy and the bullying she’d endured growing up, he never once thought it strange or too familiar. Just that he was glad she felt she could trust him with such deeply personal details. Like he’d been given something precious, something rare. 

It was past midnight when they finally made their way back to his hotel, and Gendry had never wanted an evening to end less than he did this one. 

“When do you go back to King’s Landing?” she asked looking up at him. 

“My flight’s the day after tomorrow,” he said, frowning. “First thing in the morning.”

“Oh.” She glanced down, her face disappointed. 

“I could-” He stopped, unsure if he was making too big an assumption or not. 

Arya tilted her head curiously. “You could what?”

He reached up with his free hand to rub his neck. “I could change my flight. Stay through the weekend,” he said. “It’d be a few more days here.”

She bit her lip and looked up at him, her eyes a little uncertain, but hopeful. “Are you sure? You don’t have plans or anything?”

Gendry snorted and shook his head. “Unless Hot Pie and Lommy drag me out, my weekend plans usually involve takeaway and Netflix, so no. No plans,” he said. “I’d love to stay longer. If you’ll put up with me, that is.” 

She smiled and shifted slightly on her feet, leaning imperceptibly closer. “I’d like that,” she said, tilting her face up. 

Her hand had been clasped in his for hours, but that had been it. He hadn’t pulled her closer as they watched the ships in Chequy Port. He hadn’t wrapped his arm around her waist to keep from getting separated in the crowd in front of the Dome. He’d been a perfect gentleman. Mostly because he was terrified of misreading signals, but also because he didn’t want to push her for anything she wasn’t ready for.

But she was close. Arya was so close, leaning up, lips parted and eyes shining. And so for the second time that night, he thought _fuck it_ and bent down to close the distance between them. 

A small contented sigh fell from Arya’s mouth just before their lips met, and then he heard nothing except the pounding of his heart as he felt her arms snake up around his neck, her fingers buried in his hair, pulling him closer. Gendry wrapped his own arms around her waist and pulled her closer, his body thrumming with something he’d not felt in...well, ever.

When they finally pulled apart, breathless, he pressed his forehead against hers. “Was that okay?” he asked softly.

He felt her nod. “More than okay,” she replied quietly, and he opened his eyes to look down at her, his hand moving to cup her cheek. 

“Gods, you’re beautiful,” he whispered, the words just slipping out without conscious thought.

Arya blinked at him, her eyes narrowing in confusion and she took a step back, her arms dropping to her sides. “Don’t-” She cut herself off, shaking her head. “Don’t say things like that.”

Gendry looked at her, confused. “Like what?” he asked.

“Don’t say things that aren’t true,” she said, her tone sharp. 

He felt like he’d missed something. “What’s not true?”

“That I’m-” She cut herself again and glanced away, avoiding his gaze.

He stared at her for a long moment, bewildered, and then it hit him and he wanted to hurt whoever it was that had made her that insecure.

“Hey,” he said gently, moving his head to try to meet her gaze. “Look at me, and tell me if I’m lying.” He stopped and waited, wanting her to see the truth in his eyes. After what felt like an eternity, her eyes met his and he took a deep breath.

“You are,” he said slowly, “the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”

Her eyes widened slightly, and he continued. “And I’m not good at this kind of thing, and maybe this is all too much too fast considering we only met this morning, but meeting you, it feels like-” He stopped, trying to gather his thoughts. “I’m awful with people,” he said. “I don’t like them. I say the wrong thing, and I take things the wrong way, but you…” He trailed off, reaching out to take her hand and pull her closer, sighing in relief when she let him. 

“This is going to sound unbearably cheesy,” he said, echoing the phrase she’d used earlier. “Especially considering your profession. But it feels like, for the first time in my life, I don’t need a interpreter. Like you understand what I’m saying without me stumbling through any explanations.” He paused and gave her a soft smile. “It feels like I’m finally having a conversation with someone who speaks the same language.”

Gendry lifted his hand to tilt her chin up slightly, moving closer so that they were only inches apart. “So tell me if I’m lying, Arya, because when I say you’re beautiful, it’s the truest thing I’ve ever said.”

For a moment that seemed like it stretched into eternity, she stared at him, her eyes searching his, and then something in them shifted and she surged forward, pressing her lips to his and kissing him with a hunger he wanted nothing more than to satisfy. 

He wasn’t sure how long they stood there in front of his hotel, wrapped in each other, oblivious to everything else. The sun could have risen, and he wouldn’t have noticed. When she drew back, just enough to catch her breath, he felt himself leaning after her, trying to chase her lips with his, and he stopped, forcing himself to let her go.

“No one’s ever said that to me before,” she said quietly, a note of insecurity in her voice. “Not really. A few sleazy guys only trying to get in my pants.”

Gendry felt his face heat up instantly. “I’m not trying- Not that I don’t want-” He stopped. “Fuck. There’s really nothing I can say here that makes me look good, is there?”

She grinned and shook her head. “Sorry,” she said, not sounding it at all.

He tightened his arms around her, smiling when she tilted her face back up to his. “In that case, I’m just gonna do this again.” He swooped down to capture her lips with his, but she pulled back and pressed her fingers against his mouth. 

“Hold that thought,” she said. “I really want to say this first, all right?”

He nodded and waited for her to continue. 

“No one’s ever said that to me before and meant it. And maybe you’re right, maybe this is too much too fast, and maybe when I get to King’s Landing it’ll turn out we don’t actually like each other at all and that we’re completely incompatible…” She trailed off, chewing her lip, and his chest constricted suddenly, but then she smiled so brightly, so full of hope that he thought his heart might burst. “But I don’t think that’s going to happen, do you?”

Gendry let out a long breath and then shook his head. “No, I really don’t,” he agreed before kissing her forehead. 

“I don’t either,” she said lifting up on her toes to kiss him quickly. “Because this feels...important. Meeting you. It feels…” She trailed off again, her face thoughtful. 

There was a word Tobho used sometimes, at the end of a particularly good day in the forge. He never could find an equivalent in the common tongue, but he once explained it like the universe conspiring to give you everything you’ve ever wanted, like all the fates aligning, like a sigh of relief that everything has worked exactly as it’s meant to. 

Gendry thought for a moment, then whispered it, certain that he was butchering the pronunciation, but Arya’s face softened and she nodded before kissing him again. 

“Yeah,” she said, when she pulled away, both breathless again. “It feels just like that.”


End file.
